Of Dragons, Men, and Mer
by Vicent1995
Summary: The dragonborn is once more called to war, this time farther than ever before. Will he survive this time, or will the pawn of the gods be broken? Perhaps is time to pass the torch to the future.


**I read a crossover where the dragonborn was an utter Mary Sue. That bugged me. A lot. So I said: hey, why not do this? You wanted to do a nice crossover for a while! And thanks, history I hated: you brought me to do something I wanted to do for a long time. Because of yes, as we say in my country.**

 **The story will have... a few tweaks. Namely, and this one will be of little importance, the dragonborn fought Miraak long ago, for different reasons-being Mora's champion and another reason I'm not going to disclose.**

 **And here's the tale of Zagrod gro-Ghazgul.**

 **Chapter 1: Visions.**

 _It's been a while._

Zagrod turned his back. The elder orc walked off through the endless nothing.

 _Don't be so shy, you know you miss me and the many quests I sent you in order to expand my collection._

Hermaeus Mora, one of the most dangerous daedric princes, approached Zagrod, its many tentacles surrounding the elder orc.

 _We need you, take up arms again and fight for what you hold dear, my champion. Sally into the pits of battle again, mighty dragonborn. For there's a lot in stake._

At this words a sudden blast of light blinded the dragonborn. A mighty being came into existance, soaring across and bringing life to the lifeless white canvas.

Akatosh.

 _"March beyond the seas and skies. Beyond the oblivion. Bearer of my blood you'll travel farther than anyone from Tamriel accompanied by your dearest shieldbrothers, with a vagrant of worlds you'll fight what must be stopped at all costs."_

It was then that Zagrod woke up in his quarters in the College of Winterhold. Sweating and being cold at the same time while breathing heavily.

What did that dream mean? Why were the gods so eager to use him as a pawn always? Once he fought and banished Alduin, Zagrod thought he would be free, able to rest his old bones in a place he could call home. How naive he had been!

And the cherry on the top was the old wound the world eater inflicted Zagrod. The orsimer gasped as it attacked yet again. The curse of Akatosh's firstborn gnawed his flesh, earning a grunt on the orsimer's part. He groaned and fell to the floor as the crippling pain made its way through the nervous system. One stab-like ping of pain earned Zagrod a scream.

A sudden knock brought him to reality. Divines knew how long he had been there.

The young and good-willed Onmund appeared.

"Arch-Mage, are you okay!? Oh, Divines, someone bring the healers."

*****  
 **One week later. Morndas 25, Last Seed. Year 205 of the 4th era. Battlehorn castle.**

Emperor Titus Mede the second saw, like every morning, the sun rise. This time from the terrace of his 'summer palace', albeit battlehorn castle was quite the fortified post. Titus Mede the first, hero of Kvatch, had led the forces of the horn from there to put an end to the chaos that had become the Imperial city. He crowned himself emperor and tried to rebuild the golden era-a hopeless task. Now, the Empire seemed to rise again under the fifth emperor of House Mede, and it was thanks to the orc in front of him. An old friend both to the Emperor and to the house Mede as a whole.

Imperial Battlemage Zagrod. When he had heard the elder orc was indeed the dragonborn, the emperor couldn't help but laugh. Destiny, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.

"It's all a circle, an endless cycle." Said Luthiel. "A cycle that menaces to be broken."

The emperor scowled. He kept thinking of the words the three mages had said. The three were members of the Brotherhood, a council of elder mages that drawed its members from all of Tamriel and all the magic disciplines, all to protect the delicate balance. The three of them were senior members and of quite a high rank. Zagrod, Imperial Battlemage and former legate of the empire. Luthiel, a misterious elven maiden whom was even older than Zagrod yet appeared to be roughly in her mid thirties. And, this was much to the emperor's dismay, Festus Krex- one of the speakers of the Dark Brotherhood. The fact that two of the three men that had tried to assasinate him was an indicator that the conversation would be rough. And after hearing it... Divines.

"And what do you need? Armies? You know perfectly the Empire is out of resources, fighting against the Thalmor. Tullius told me his forces are hard pressed between the defence of Anvil and Lleyawin and the siege of Orcrest."  
"I didn't came to you for armies." Said Zagrod gruffly. "What we do need is a secret the Mede guard zealously beneath the Battlehorn.

Battlehorn's inner catacombs... Titus didn't remember the last time he visited them.

Deep beneath the castle laid a massive crystal, half sunk in a lake. The place was... unnerving. It was a beauty to behold but something in the whole picture gave chills to anyone who visited. An ominous feeling loomed over the room.

"It reminds me of Ardras," Commented Krex." Only there's no one ready to kill us here."

"Don't tempt fate!"Whispered Luthiel.

The Ur-Khra, Titus understood little of this crystal, aside it was some sort of anchor.

"A fragment of the greatest city. Of a time where everything was a whole," Said Zagrod with a tinge of nostalgia. "There's no time to waste. Prepare the ritual!"

The mages formed a triangle and soon began the ancient incantation. The energy flowed gently and began to float around. Upon its liberation, the sparks of energy resonated with the crystal, which began glowing. And the glow became so intense it blinded everyone. The three mages closed their eyes for a second.

Now they were in a white room far away from Tamriel, Nirn and any of the planes. A place amidst everything and far from away from anything.  
The room was mostly occupied by a fountain where thousands of small dots of lights.  
"Now, we only have to search amongst the over nine thousand uberbillion posibilites," Said Krex as he approached the dots and began touching them. "No... Not this one..."  
Each dot was the equivalent ot the Ur-Khra in a completely different world. The last remnant of a civilization long gone that mastered the travel between realities and harnessed masterfully the art of magic. What they needed, though, was the source of 'what should be stopped'. With a weary sigh, Zagrod and Luthiel joined the search.

"No, definetely no, the hell I'm going to Macragge." Each failed world was a slight disappointment for, Zagrod didn't want to spend eternity searching. "No, n-wai, guys I found it!"

There was no doubt. For the sensation it gave. This world was about to die, a wicked cancer gnawing it.

"Let's go. To," Zagrod searched for this world's name, hidden deep beneath its essence. "Thedas.


End file.
